Magic Lessons
by foreverstartsrightnow
Summary: Emma seeks out Jefferson to learn how to use her magic, and one thing leads to another. One-shot. X-posted from tumblr.


**Pairing**: Emma and Jefferson :: Mad Swan

**Rating: M for sexual content. Seriously, you have been warned.**

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing related to Once Upon a Time and am forever indebted to the actual writers who have created such inspiring characters.

**A/N**: This is cross-posted from my tumblr a few weeks ago. I started writing some stray character thoughts on Emma and this is what resulted. The ending of my first attempt was actually so frustratingly chaste that I was annoyed by myself. After some reworking, it became the smut presented before you now. Let me know what you think!

Also: **Please review!** If you can click to favorite it, you can type a couple letters into a text box and hit "post review"! 3

—-

Emma sat hunched over her desk. The pile of papers before her seemed unending and merciless. She felt herself droop… her eyelids grew heavy and she jerked herself awake before slowly drifting toward sleep once again.

It had been three weeks since the curse broke… since the residents of Storybrooke regained the memories of their past lives. Everyone kept coming to Emma demanding answers. Demanding return passage to the Enchanted Forest. But Emma, though she felt the magic coursing through her now, was at a loss to help them. It was a matter of application that had her stuck… even though she believed that everything was real… that every fairy tale from her childhood had actually happened, that she was a part of it… she could not make sense of how to employ her power, or what the consequences of its usage would be.

The sheriff's department was busier than ever. It seemed that now everyone had their rightful identities back, some didn't believe that their actions had any real consequences in this world. The first week there had been riots; the mayor's house was stormed and looted, shop windows smashed and set on fire (Mr. Gold's, in particular). Once the madness calmed down, everyone returned to their regular routines, albeit begrudgingly. Emma assured them she would figure it out, to find a way to harness the power within her and send everyone home.

Emma jerked awake again and cursed under her breath. She glanced at the clock. Just after midnight. Cursing again, she rose and walked from her office to the coffee pot. Empty. She looked around the room, as if expecting someone to be there to ask for a coffee run. Sighing, she returned to her office, shuffled the papers to the side and revealing the storybook that occupied her desk since the curse broke. She had spent hours upon hours scouring the material for any hint of direction. Slumping in the chair she opened to the back cover, her fingers sliding over the rough edges of the torn pages of the story of her birth. She sighed again, more audibly this time, and slid her hand into the middle of the book, flipping at random.

The pages stopped suddenly on the image of a man with wild hair smiling up at a young girl. Jefferson. Emma felt a pang of guilt as she ran her fingers across the drawing. He had been right, all this time. She smiled weakly as she absent-mindedly traced the outline of his face, around the line of his jaw and up to his hair. With sudden resolve, she knew she needed to see him. To apologize, she rationalized, and to see if Paige— er… Grace was doing well with him. She'd seen them around town together, though she never spoke to him, and they seemed as happy as they appeared in the drawing. She gazed out the window up the hill toward the strange house. She could remember the exact angle at which the telescope was pointed down at her and wondered…

No. She stopped herself. That was a lifetime ago. And Jefferson certainly hadn't been kind to her in the final moments of their only meeting. Still… he had been undeniably right and it _was_ awfully rude of her to bash him in the face with his own telescope. Still… fear does strange things to a person, she kept reminding herself, and she was only looking out for her own well being and for her friend… uh… mother.

Emma shook herself from her thoughts and closed the book. It was settled: in the morning she would visit the strange handsome man on the hill. (She had to shake the "handsome" part from her mind as well). Slipping on her jacket and snatching her car keys from the pocket, Emma fought the smile escaping her lips and took one last look out the window before flicking off the lights and locking the door behind her.

—-

Her dream was a familiar one. She stood in the white living room and moved toward the door left slightly ajar. She poked her head out only to witness her own body creep into the room down the hall, the room that held her mother. She watched Jefferson move silently from his workroom to the opposite end of the hall, gun in tow…

Morning came sooner than she expected and Emma groaned as she rolled away from the sun streaming in her window and pulled the blanket up over her head. Her mind wandered to the night before and she laughed at herself when she remembered her hardened decision to apologize to Jefferson. Was she nuts? Despite the fact that she now had tangible proof that he had been right, he still kidnapped her and her mother, held her at gunpoint, and attacked her. Not to mention, she had her suspicions it was his doing that brought the cursed apple to this world, the same apple that nearly killed both her mother and her son. She certainly did not need to speak with him, not now at least. She sighed, whipped back the blanket, and started her day.

—-

This evening ended just as the one before… a mountain of paper work, no coffee in the pot, and an empty station. Not even Leroy was in the drunk-tank to keep her company. Emma rested her head on the desk and closed her eyes.

She was standing in Jefferson's workroom, watching herself make the hat. It didn't work. Jefferson grew impatient. As she watched, she saw the course of events through new eyes. She studied Jefferson as he finally told her about Grace, about being trapped for nearly 30 years in a hell designed by an evil queen. He was desperate. She was the first real hope he ever had. In that moment in the workroom, Emma believed, for just a flicker of a moment. She saw Jefferson's relief and then she watched herself grab the telescope and bash the seemingly mad man across the face. She didn't allow herself believe at that time. How could she? She didn't let herself… _at that time_.

Emma bolted upright at the realization. Whatever Jefferson knew about her, she knew now, and whatever magic she had in her, Jefferson could extract. She looked about her, gained her bearings and grabbed the keys out of her red leather jacket. As she turned to lock the door, a flicker from the direction of the house caught her eye. Had he been watching her? Did he know she was coming?

She stepped on the gas in her yellow bug as she climbed the hill that lead to the mansion in the woods. She pulled up to the front of the house and ran up the all too familiar steps. Not a moment after she raised her fist to knock on the door, it opened. Jefferson smiled.

"Emma! I see you've finally come to pay me a visit."

Emma reeled at his sudden presence and took a small step back, her mouth slack-jawed and fist stilled poised to knock. After a beat, she pulled herself together, instinctively becoming defensive. Her eyes hardened and took in the man before her. He was dressed similarly to the first time they met: black wingtip shoes, patterned vest, hair perfectly coifed… except this time he was without the cravat tired at his throat. Her eyes flickered down to the angry red scar that seemed to follow the entire circumference of his neck. She swallowed before she spoke finally.

"So you _were_ watching me."

"Well, you see, Grace is asleep and I can't have strange women banging my door down at all hours of the night." Jefferson's amused grin grew wider and he crossed his arms and leaned nonchalantly against the doorframe. It felt like his steely gaze was boring directly into Emma's brain. She shook herself inwardly and tried to focus on the task at hand.

"Why didn't you come to me after the curse broke?" Her voice came out more uneven than she intended. It was needy and desperate, not at all how she was expecting this encounter to go. How had she expected it to go? Here she was at Jefferson's doorstep, in his territory, and she had expected to have the upper hand? She forgot what it was like to be in his presence, to feel that fire burning behind his eyes, to wrestle desire with the need to survive. She was at his mercy, again.

"Well the last time I came to you, you hit me over the head and your mother kicked me out a window. Lucky I didn't break my neck," he answered ironically. Emma flinched. Her breath was caught in her lungs, and she found the seconds that passed unbearable. His eyes flickered down to her mouth and he lowered his voice. "This time you had to come to me."

A small noise escaped Emma's throat but still found herself unable to speak. Her face grew warm as she crossed her arms, steeling herself. Jefferson raised his eyes, half-lidded, to meet hers.

"So then you know that I need you," she stated firmly, "I need you to help me gain control of my magic."

The smile returned to Jefferson's lips. He uncrossed his arms and stood sideways in the doorway, welcoming, "Why don't you come in? I'll make us some tea and we can talk about this a little more."

"You will absolutely not be making me any more tea, thank you," Emma balked, but found her legs eagerly carrying her across the threshold and back into the place where she began to believe. As she neared Jefferson, he caught her by the waist and frowned playfully. His hands rested on her body, not so tight that she couldn't get away, but firm enough to stop her in her tracks. His thumb found the hem of her green blouse and made a slow pass along her skin. Sparks of electricity passed between them. Emma looked up at him wide-eyed, scared; his breath was warm and sweet on her face, lips in a full pout.

"Well if it would make you feel better, I'll allow you to prepare it."

"Fine," she breathed, forcibly removing his hands and ignoring the chills he sent up her spine, hoping against all hope he hadn't noticed them too.

—-

She asked if they could talk somewhere else. She still didn't feel comfortable in the room with the white couches and the piano, even though she had prepared the tea this time, even though she made him drink some first just to make sure it was safe. He seemed amused and led her down a maze of halls, past bedrooms and through corridors to the study on the other end of the house. This room was much different. Instead of the white frieze carpets and pops of sterile color, this was warm. It was worn. It had been lived in. Emma gazed around at the floor to ceiling bookcases, the elaborate oriental rug beneath her feet, and across the mahogany desk that was littered with papers, books, and artifacts.

"You'll have to excuse the mess, I don't often bring visitors back here."

"Looks a lot like my office," Emma laughed. She walked around the room and let her fingers slide across the dark wood of the bookcases and over the worn spines. She wondered inwardly exactly how many of the books he'd read over 28 years of solitude. Jefferson smiled as he set the tea tray on the table in front of a leather high back love seat then moved toward the fireplace and lit it. "Sit, please."

Emma sat tentatively at the edge of one of the sofa, reaching for a cup and bringing it slowly to her lips. She watched Jefferson shuffle around the room, straightening papers and tucking things into drawers. As she felt the warming effects of both the tea and the fireplace, she sat back and allowed herself to relax. She didn't realize how tired she was before this; she didn't even know what time it was. As if reading her mind, the grandfather clock chimed in the corner, just once. She felt herself drifting off, and Jefferson appeared before her, a concerned look on his face.

"You're tired, maybe we should get you to bed and talk in the morning."

Emma's eyes popped open and she sat up, "No, no, I'm fine, we need to figure out this magic thing…"

"Ok, then," Jefferson said in resolve, sitting next to her. His face was partially obscured in the dimly lit room, the side of his face flickering from the glow of the fire. Emma found herself mesmerized by the dark pools of his eyes. "What do you want me to do?"

—-

They went over the details of the curse, what breaking it meant, how nothing had happened that either of them expected. He revealed that Regina had his hat, that she had coerced him into using it and that she still possessed it. She told him about the book, about the pages of her story that had been ripped out, and how she still felt alone and incapable of helping anyone. "The list of people who could possibly help me is dwindling exponentially…" She explained, exasperated, "The Blue Fairy is at a loss for helping me, not to mention she still has her hands full at the mission… I thought of Gold, well, Rumplestilskin as an ally until he prove himself to be a wild-card… and August…" she choked back the sudden well of tears that burned the back of her throat. She looked down at her hands and closed her eyes. "Why I really came here… what I really wanted to say to you… is I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for not believing you."

Jefferson was taken aback by her sudden wave of emotion. Prior to this moment, all he had seen was strength. It wasn't what he imagined this meeting to be. Sure, he knew she would come around eventually, knew she would ask for his help. But what he hadn't fully accounted for was how she made him feel, how deeply her magic affected him.

He remembered the first time he noticed her in town. The moment she decided to stay and the clock moved and time began. He witnessed her power. He was desperate to be in her presence. By the time his chance came, his mind was wild with urgency. He felt her magic when she was close and forced himself to keep a distance. As strange as it seemed now, putting the gun between them was the only way to keep from losing control. And when she refused to help him, there was the apple…

He shoved the memory aside and gently grasped her hands. He felt the magic buzz between them and wondered if she felt it too. She smiled weakly up at him; the unease she felt earlier had been completely absolved and was replaced by something else entirely.

"You don't need to be sorry," he admitted, "it's me who should apologize. All I could see was getting Grace back, and that meant going to tremendous lengths. But now… now I have her and I'm ready to make amends. I want to help you."

Releasing her hands suddenly, Jefferson popped up and rounded the sofa. He let out an affectionate laugh at Emma's face peeking quizzically over the top of the high back. "Well, do you want your first lesson, or not?" With a renewed spirit and a surge of adrenaline, she jumped up and faced him in the center of the room.

"Now, hold up your hands up to mine," he instructed, "and focus all your energy there."

Emma closed her eyes and lifted her hands, barely brushing his. She felt the magic rush through her, building inside her fingertips. Jefferson's hands tingled as he felt it too.

"Good, now concentrate on me and try to push it out."

Emma's heart began to race and her eyes clenched, inhaling sharply. Her hands were so full now, she felt as though they might burst. Her eyes snapped open as white opalescent puffs of smoke emitted from her fingers

"Yes, Emma, you're doing it!" Jefferson gasped, his eyes wide and hungry for more, "keep going!"

With a sudden burst of power, Emma pushed beyond her capacity, sending Jefferson flying into the bookshelf. "Holy shit! I'm so sorry!" she cried, kneeling before his slumped body, books upset all around them.

Jefferson's entire body racked with fits of laugher and took her hands, "Don't be sorry! That was incredible!" He gasped, trying to regain his breath. Emma laughed with relief, unable to erase the smile that formed on her face. She sat back on the heels, watching the rise and fall of his chest as his breathing returned to normal. She was aware of a sudden surge of energy between them. Blood rushed to her face and she reached out to rest her hand on his cheek. His eyes closed and he leaned gently into it, letting the magic he felt course through his entire body. Is this what she felt like all the time? It was wildly intoxicating.

Instinctively, he leaned closer, feeling the heat and sparks fly between them. Emma's hand traced familiarly down the side of his face, her thumb ran across the line of his jaw, fingers ghosting over his scar at the back of his neck, and pushed up into his hair. She held her breath as his hands slid gently up her thighs, their foreheads nearly touching.

"You know, the color of a person's magic is determined by its purity," Jefferson breathed heavily, "and yours is white… I've never experienced a magic as pure as yours." His hands slid around her hips, his fingers finding purchase on the skin of her back, sending bolts of electricity up her spine. Emma gasped and pulled his face close to her, their legs entwined, lips barely grazing…

The first kiss was a nuclear bomb. Nerves ignited, muscles tightened, and breaths came husky and ragged. With the second kiss, the entire world dropped out from underneath them and Emma found herself desperately clinging to Jefferson, tangling her hands in his hair. Her lips parted, allowing him to explore her mouth, running his tongue along the seam between their lips, driving her wild. She caught his bottom lip and rolled it between her teeth, eliciting moan from deep within his lungs. His lips worked their way across her jaw and traveled down the line of her throat, nipping and sucking the skin at her collarbone.

Emma threw her head back as his fingers fluttered deftly down the buttons of her blouse, sliding it off her shoulders and making easy work of the clasp of her black cotton bra. He rolled her back on the plush rug and stretched her out, never breaking contact with her skin. Her hands tugged at the shirt tucked into his pants and slid her hands under the hem. He settled his knees on either side of her and pushed himself up on his hands to gain a better view. Her lips were rosy and swollen, breath was shallow, and her skin glowed with the white magic she exuded.

He sucked in a breath and licked his lips. "You are… extraordinary."

Emma knew she should feel self conscious laying half nude under a man who was still fully clothed, but she quickly worked to remedy her unease by undoing the buttons of his vest, then maneuvered down his shirt, slowly ghosting her hands up his bare torso, sending a wave of anticipation through him. She slid the offending articles over his shoulders, gripped them for support and raised her head to graze her lips and tongue across the scar along his throat. He moaned and shifted his weight to shed the clothing fully and pressed down against her body, feeling the round flesh of her breasts against his chest and desperately explored her mouth once more.

She felt his hand between them, his thumb stroking her hardening nipple briefly, before it snaked around to her belly and easily undid the button of her jeans in a single motion. Being a craftsman certainly came in handy in these situations, she thought, smiling into his lips. She kicked off her boots and lifted her hips to allow her jeans and underwear to follow.

Emma gasped as Jefferson's hand slid between her bare thighs and found her core, making circles around her round button of nerves with his thumb and exploring her folds with his fingers. His face moved down her body, kissing the alabaster skin of her chest. His mouth closed around the hardened nub of her breast making sure to switch sides, lavishing each one with the proper attention. She moaned at the sensation, feeling the burning in her belly grow and ache with each pass of this thumb. Her hands raked across the toned muscles of his back and shoulders and buried them in his hair, she panted his name and brought her face to meet the top of his head. Jefferson smiled against her breast at eliciting such a response. His hand worked harder at her core, slipping his index and middle fingers into her silky wetness.

That was all it took for Emma to come crashing down. Her body racked with pleasure, arching her back and bucking her hips into his hand as he plunged deep within her, stroking her slick walls and bringing on a second wave. She cried out and slumped back against the carpet, her chest heaving. "Jefferson… please…" she gasped and he removed his hand from her pulsating core. He leaned on his free elbow and brought his wet fingers to his lips, tasting her juices.

Emma took the opportunity to roll Jefferson onto his back, straddling him and eagerly worked the buckle of his belt and button of his fly as he kicked off his shoes, allowing her to tug the waist of his jeans down and off of his legs. Now it was his turn to be vulnerable. She reached down and took hold of his arousal, using her thumb to tease the underside of his length and slid the seam of her opening across the tip. He pressed his head back against the rug, clenched shut his eyes, and groaned her name.

Emma grinned wickedly and in one fluid motion, her body sank down on him, allowing his fullness to stretch her inside. Jefferson's hands reached for her hips, digging his fingers into her soft flesh. She hissed at the tightness of his grip. Leaning down to capture his mouth, his hips rose to meet hers in an effortless rhythm. She rode him deeper and skin met skin, their bones crashed together and time seemed to stop once again.

As they both drew closer to their mutual undoing, the energy surged through their connected bodies, causing sensations to well within them unlike anything they'd ever felt before. Their eyes locked in an intense stare, until Emma dragged her nails across Jefferson's chest, throwing back her head. The heat between their legs radiated outward and filled the entire room with a translucent white cloud. Emma laughed with delight just before a third orgasm racked her slender frame. The tightening of her muscles brought Jefferson over the edge after her, firing off sparks through the mist, audibly fizzling out like a firework.

Emma slumped onto Jefferson's chest, and he joined her contented giggles. His arms wrapped comfortably around her waist and they lay in silence as they regained their breathing.

"Not bad for our first lesson, huh?" Emma quipped and nuzzled his neck, her lips absent-mindedly traced the line of his scar. "So then I guess we'll start lesson number two tomorrow?"

"Yes. Tomorrow," he echoed, smiling into her golden hair and pulled her close, not wanting to be far from her or her magic ever again.


End file.
